A Monumental Mix-Up
by potionseagle
Summary: Hermione drinks a potion made by the Weasleys and Snape; chaos ensues. Hermione/Lucius


_Seven Weeks Earlier_

"It's just like Felix Felicis, Hermione," Ginny explained, "in that it sort of leads you through the potion to the right result."

Hermione looked at Ginny incredulously. A few months prior, the Weasley twins had come out with a potion they marketed as a "find your mate" potion. Hermione would be even more suspicious of the concoction, but somehow the twins managed to convince Snape to collaborate on the brew. Fred had insisted this was all due to their powers of persuasion, but Hermione suspected gold had more to do with it. Snape hadn't been interested in teaching since the war ended, and it's apparently expensive to be a recluse.

"Felix Felicis doesn't make you forget twelve hours of your life while it's _leading _you around," Hermione argued, a bit exasperated with the suggestion.

Ginny shrugged, nonplussed. "Neville and I would have never found each other without it. I wouldn't have even considered it, but it worked out…" Ginny dragged out the last few words as she pretended to fix her hair while flashing her engagement ring at Hermione, as though Hermione needed the reminder while they were shopping for Ginny's wedding dress.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Yes, yes, waking up in a greenhouse with no memory of how you arrived there; very romantic."

"Yes, it was," Ginny responded, ignoring Hermione's sarcasm. "What could it hurt to try it?"

"Well," Hermione huffed, "let's see. For starters, it could be that a Snape-Weasley collaboration is just about the money and the potion doesn't really work at all." Ginny glared at her. "I'm not saying it didn't work for you; but a sample size of one isn't terribly convincing."

"So, let's pretend it doesn't work at all," Ginny ventured, "what's the worst that could happen?"

"I could completely embarrass myself," Hermione explained, "and end up waking up somewhere a lot worse than a greenhouse."

"I don't think a little adventure would be too bad for you, if I'm being honest, Hermione. If a crazy night is the worst-case scenario, that seems like a good thing for you. You're in a rut."

"I am _not_ in a rut!" Hermione exclaimed.

"When's the last time you had sex?" Ginny asked bluntly.

Hermione paused, feeling color rise in her cheeks. "Okay, fine, but I'm only doing this for you."

Ginny nodded and cracked a sly smile. "I can live with that."

* * *

_Six and a Half Weeks Earlier_

It was as if one minute she swallowed the potion and the very next she was in the middle of a hallway, mid-step. Hermione reached down and patted her midsection while analyzing her clothing. _Last night's clothes_. Her hands reached up to her head next and assessed the state of her hair. _And that's definitely sex hair_.

She continued on through the hallway, not recognizing it until it opened up into a large drawing room, having to put a hand over her mouth to stop from screaming.

Hermione prided herself on thinking through all the worst things that can happen before embarking on any course of action. If you know the worst, after all, and can stomach it, then there's less reason to be anxious. But ending up at the Manor, with _Draco Malfoy_ as her apparent chosen mate, was not in her initial calculus.

"Granger?" She spun around at the voice, coming face-to-face with her childhood nemesis. He was in light gray plaid pajamas that appeared to be made out of a thick flannel, which made her notice for the first time that it was incredibly cold in the Manor; Hermione pulled her black cardigan over her button-up shirt reflexively.

"Malfoy—er, Draco—" she corrected, seeing as she had apparently spent the night with him. His blond eyebrows shot up at her use of his first name. "Look," she said, straightening her spine, "I don't remember anything from last night."

"Granger, I don't remember much either—admittedly I had about five too many drinks at Pansy's bachelorette party, which, yes, I attended, but I distinctly remember coming home by myself," he explained, turning his head slightly to fully take in the state of her hair. "I think I would have an owl or ten pecking hard at my window if I left with you, certainly."

Hermione shrugged, at a loss. "Maybe I came over; I have no idea."

"But why would you do that?" Draco asked, not demanding, just confused.

Hermione could feel the blood rush to her face as she explained, in such a quiet voice that Draco had to ask her to repeat herself, "I may have taken the mate potion thing." It was far from eloquent, but it got the point across the second time as Draco's eyes widened and a mug shattered across the room.

Hermione spun around to see Lucius, who was holding one cup of hot tea, while a second was in hopelessly small pieces across the drawing room floor, dark liquid staining the rug.

Hermione started walking over instinctually, but Lucius had quickly pulled himself and the mug back together, the second accomplished with a wandless spell.

Lucius opened his mouth to say something, but Draco spoke first. Hermione turned around to see Draco crossing the room toward her.

He grabbed her hand with one of his. "I'm completely shocked, honestly, but I suppose I can admit I've always had a soft spot for you, Granger." His normally moody face broke out into a genuine smile. "Let's go on a proper date this week—one that we both remember."

The sound from the mug came again as Lucius had dropped the second one.

"Father, I know you're probably disappointed, but honestly—"

Lucius was white as a sheet, and his voice was icy and insincere as he cut Draco off. "I'm very pleased for both of you. Truly. If you'll excuse me, Ms. Granger, I think I'll have my tea in another room." And with that, he stalked out of the room, leaving both mugs behind on the ground, one broken, one intact.

"I apologize for my father," Draco said, shaking his head slightly. "He's acting very strange this morning, and I can't imagine why he had another mug of tea."

"I suppose it was for you," Hermione offered.

Draco shrugged. "It doesn't matter; he's been a bit off since the divorce. But let's talk about this date." And that's what they did.

* * *

_Present Day_

Hermione and Ginny were going on a well-deserved night out. Because Hermione was busy with Draco and Ginny with the wedding, they hadn't been able to do more than a quick lunch in ages.

They decided to go to an old haunt that they hadn't been to in months: the Hog's Head. As the pair of them walked in, Aberforth gave Hermione a half-hearted wave; he had been much warmer to her after the war. She walked over and said hello.

"Hello, Hermione," Aberforth greeted her in a gruff voice. "No Malfoy today, then?" He asked in an offhand way as he began to pour her usual firewhisky neat.

Hermione and Ginny exchanged a meaningful glance, Ginny wagging one eyebrow up and down playfully. "I was in here with Draco recently?" Hermione asked, trying to sound casual.

"That obnoxious kid?" Aberforth asked, serving her drink with a thud. "No, the other Malfoy. I can't believe you blacked out from a couple of these," he said, eyeing the whisky and then shrugging, losing interest.

"I know, it's pathetic," Hermione played along, trying to keep his attention as her mind raced. "Could you give me just a super quick summary?"

Aberforth grunted.

"Please? I was in here with Lucius Malfoy, you're saying?"

"That's the one," he confirmed. "You sat right there," he gestured to Hermione, "and you talked about a load of dull things at a million miles a minute; I think you drove some of my regulars out, to be honest."

"Sorry, Aberforth," Hermione apologized absentmindedly.

"Watch the firewhisky, Hermione," Aberforth said before retreating to the back of the pub, out of sight.

"Merlin's beard, Hermione," Ginny swore with a whistle.

"I don't get it," Hermione said; she could hear her voice quickly becoming more high-pitched from panic. "He didn't say _anything_; he just stood there with… with two mugs of tea," she finished, realization slowly dawning.

"You ran into him that morning too?!" Ginny exclaimed.

Hermione quickly glanced around the pub; there was no one she knew, but she still told Ginny to keep her voice down.

"Sorry, sorry," Ginny said in a loud whisper.

"Maybe he regretted it," Hermione murmured, insecurity and anxiety pooling in her stomach.

"No," Ginny said matter-of-factly, "Aberforth is the least enthusiastic storyteller I've ever met and even he said you two talked for ages and were engaged with one another."

"Then why wouldn't he say, 'hey, I was the person you slept with; just wanted to clear that up'?" Hermione asked miserably.

Ginny changed tack, asking: "Why do you care? What about what you've said? That the potion isn't terribly trustworthy? You seem to have something good with Draco, and you're going to give it up because it didn't start how you thought it did?"

"If it's just a potion," Hermione ventured, "then why do I feel ten times more excited now that I ever did dating Draco?" She looked down at the ground, feeling guilty as her own words. She had wanted to make things work with Draco, and things were fine, but all the concerns she had—that they didn't have quite the same sense of humor, that he was slightly immature sometimes, that he was obsessed with Quidditch—came sharply into focus. And Aberforth's words, few as they were, gave her an alternate picture: someone she could talk with for hours while each of them remained attentive. It was too attractive to ignore.

"Who will you talk to first, then?" Ginny asked.

* * *

_Later That Night_

"I was surprised you wanted to see me; I thought tonight was girls' night out," Draco said light-heartedly as he led her into the kitchen. They both arranged themselves on stools—their normal stools, Hermione realized, feeling guilty again.

"I have something to tell you that's going to be really difficult to hear," Hermione blurted out.

"Oh," Draco replied, clearly taken aback. "What's going on, Granger?" Hermione hated that he still called her Granger.

"There's no easy way to say this, so I'm just going to say it. Ginny and I went to the Hog's Head tonight and I found out that I was there. Recently. When I took the potion."

Draco looked a bit confused and bit his lip. "But Pansy hates that place. And like I said, I didn't take anyone home that night. I thought you showed up here?"

"That's what I thought must have happened," Hermione explained slowly, avoiding the subject even though she said she was going to come right out with it. "But I was wrong. There's a possibility neither of us considered. It wasn't you I went home with."

"What? I don't understand."

Hermione dug her fingernails into her palms under the table, refusing to continue. Draco continued to stare at her, his face crumpling up more and more as he pondered what she had said, and then it went smooth as his eyes widened. "You slept with my father, didn't you?" There was more than a hint of accusation in his tone.

"Yes."

Draco was shaking his head now and let out a noise between a groan and a whine. "Fuck's sake, Granger, that _is_ difficult to hear."

"So we're not"—Draco was looking at the tabletop instead of at Hermione—"I mean it wasn't me that you were meant to find, I guess."

"Yeah," Hermione said. She felt guilty for not being more comforting, but she felt sick to her stomach and didn't know if she could manage anything else.

There was a long pause where they both looked anywhere but one another.

Draco broke the silence. "If I'm being honest, Granger, I really wanted this to work." Hermione's stomach churned; this is not what she had wanted to hear. "I always had a bit of a thing for you in school." Draco said this very fast so that "bit of a thing for you" was pronounced as one word. "But there isn't really a _spark_ here, is there?"

Hermione looked up and met his eyes; he seemed sincere. "No," Hermione admitted nervously. "I don't think so."

Draco nodded, looking like he was taking everything in. "But even if this isn't going to go anywhere, let's be friends. You've grown on me, Granger, and I like not having to worry about you punching or cursing me when I run into you."

Hermione smiled. "I would really like that."

"Well, I don't mean to kick you out, but I did have plans with Blaise that I'm a bit late for… I mean as long as you're okay, but if you wanted to talk more—" Draco trailed off and Hermione got up, wracking her brain for how best to ask to be shown somewhere other than the door.

"I'm fine, really, Draco, but"—Hermione could feel the blood rushing to her face—"it's just that, if you don't mind, and maybe this is too weird—"

Draco put her out of her misery, dramatically rolling his eyes before asking, "You want to see my father, don't you?"

"That's it; yes."

Draco scrunched up his face, apparently deciding, and then went into a quick walk. "Follow me before I change my mind."

Hermione rushed after him; Draco turned as abruptly as he had started off, Hermione nearly running into him. "It's just down this hallway to the right; he'll be in the library."

"Thanks, Draco, for taking this so well and for this." Hermione gestured to the direction of the library. "I really appreciate it."

Draco nodded. "I don't really know what to say," he shrugged with an awkward laugh. "But I'll see you around."

"Looking forward to it," Hermione responded with a smile. She waited for Draco to disappear around the corner before taking a deep breath in and commencing her walk down the dark hallway.

Hermione walked slowly into a large library, knocking on the open door as she passed through it. The library had floor-to-ceiling books on every outer wall; in the middle of the room there were two large couches and a few armchairs, all a rich navy color.

In one of the armchairs sat Lucius Malfoy, wearing silver, wiry reading glasses and holding a black hardcover book. He looked up from his reading moving only his eyes, so that they were icy blue slits above his glasses. He made eye contact with Hermione only momentarily, his face a blank mask other than a slight tightening of his features. He then called, "Tippy!"

A house elf appeared a few feet from him.

Addressing the house elf and ignoring Hermione, Lucius instructed, "Please show Ms. Granger to Draco."

"Yes, sir," squeaked Tippy, who popped up next to Hermione and began dragging her away. Hermione tried to free her arm but was unsuccessful, and had to shout "Lucius!" to avoid being dragged from the room.

"One moment, Tippy," Lucius addressed the house elf before setting his sights on Hermione. "Did you have a question for me, Ms. Granger?"

"Several," Hermione snapped, thoroughly annoyed at Lucius's dramatics. "Could I speak with you alone, _Lucius_?" She repeated his first name, emphasizing it this time.

Tippy gave Hermione a dirty look, but Lucius politely asked her to leave before gesturing to the couch across from him and asking Hermione to have a seat.

"What can I do for you, Ms. Granger?" Lucius drawled.

A few hours ago, Hermione had been looking forward to clearing the air with Lucius, but now that she was speaking with him, she was mostly irritated: irritated that he had lied to her in the first place and irritated with his present treatment of her. "First, you could stop this." Hermione waved her hand around to generally indicate his person. He raised his eyebrows. "Second, you could call me Hermione. And finally, you could have an honest conversation with me where you explain to me why you have been lying to me for nearly two months."

"_Hermione_, you will have to begin this conversation since I do not know what you're referring to."

"I know everything." Lucius's face remained stony as ever. "I was at the Hog's Head earlier." No reaction. "Aberforth and I are friends; he told me everything about us."

Lucius's façade cracked as a smile began to lift one corner of his mouth. "You and Aberforth are friends? I recall him being fairly gruff toward you when—" And then he must have realized what he had said because he stopped speaking abruptly, put his book down on the table next to him, and crossed the room, tapping a book with his wand to reveal an inner cabinet filled with various drinks.

"Would you like a glass?" She nodded. He poured them each a glass of firewhisky and handed her one before sitting down with his.

He leaned forward slightly, and in his breaking of perfect posture, Lucius Malfoy looked entirely different to her. She also realized for the first time since walking in that he was slightly disheveled: his hair was pulled back, but several blond hairs had escaped and framed his face. He had discarded his robes, wearing only a white button-up shirt and black slacks.

"So..." Hermione broke the silence, feeling a bit distracted as she continued, "why didn't you say anything to me that morning?"

Lucius seemed to consider that for a moment. "First, I was shocked. I had just gone to get tea and I came back to hear you saying that you had taken Severus's potion, which meant that it had led you to me." He paused for a moment before continuing. "And before I had a moment to respond to that or even process it, it became clear to me that you had assumed it chose Draco, and Draco seemed happy about it as well." He shrugged unconvincingly, breaking eye contact. "I thought I should probably step aside. I apologize if this has caused any problems in your relationship with my son; I hoped neither of you would find out about it." His voice had turned sad and resolute; the tone washed away Hermione's insecurities that he had rejected her because of her blood or some other perceived defect.

"I want to clear something up. When I heard about"—Hermione hesitated but decided that "date" would be a fine thing to call it—"our date, I told Ginny that I felt more excited about the possibility of something here than anything with your son." Lucius opened his mouth and Hermione talked over him. "And Draco feels the same way; I told him earlier tonight and it was he who suggested that we should just be friends. I believe his exact words were that there was no spark between us."

Lucius took a sip of his drink, appearing to be pondering. "I'm sorry to hear it didn't work out between you two," he said in a voice that sounded suspiciously cheerful.

"I'm not," Hermione said. Lucius met her eyes with an intensity that made her stomach flip. "There's something I need to know, though. You know I don't remember anything from the night we were at the Hog's Head together. Did we talk about your views on muggleborns?"

"I enjoy going to the Hog's Head for the occasional glass of firewhisky because no one bothers me there." Lucius had slowly moved closer to her so that their knees were nearly touching. "Several weeks ago, I was drinking at the bar when you came up to me demanding to speak with me. First, you asked me what you did just now. I told you that my views had changed while I was in Azkaban during the war. It gave me time to reflect on my prior positions and I was in a humble enough place in life that I could finally admit to myself that I never truly thought muggleborns were inferior, but that it would be convenient to me if they were given our family bloodline. Now, I think it's better that we work together." Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but Lucius cut her off. "You're going to ask me if that's simply because we lost. As I said, that's what made me seriously consider the issue in the first place, but now that I have a better understanding for my own motivations, I have made efforts to correct them and educate myself on muggle society. And yes, before you ask, I am quite serious; in fact, this book"—he gestured to the one he was reading when she walked in—"is a muggle novel called _The Hunger Games_. I've learned that muggles like to watch other muggles on screens. And again, before you ask, I know it is not a true account of muggle societies." Hermione smiled. He had been anticipating all her questions. _That's because you've already asked them_, Hermione thought, frowning at the fact that she couldn't remember their first meeting that didn't have wands out.

"I've said something wrong," Lucius broke through her thoughts, looking concerned.

"You haven't," Hermione replied with a small shake of her head and shoulders. "I know it's silly, but I was feeling sad that I don't remember anything from when we first talked about all of this."

"Would you mind if I joined you, Hermione?" Lucius asked, gesturing toward the couch she sat on. He pronounced her name with a caress that made it sound almost foreign to her; she nodded, feeling anxiety and excitement pool in her stomach.

He sat close to her, reaching up and tracing the part of her left collarbone that was exposed from her scoop-neck sweater as he spoke. "I don't think it's silly that you feel sad; I wish you could remember, too. I could fill you in if you like so that we're on the same page."

She scooted forward a bit so that their foreheads grazed each other's and she inhaled, catching a faint scent of parchment and lemons. "I think we're on the same page, but a recap sounds nice."

Lucius chuckled softly; Hermione was close enough to feel the vibrations in his body.

"I can remember something else that you wouldn't remember from that night," Lucius whispered, his forehead still pressed against hers.

She swallowed. "What's that?"

His left hand moved from her collarbone to cup her face, separating them for only a moment before pulling her into him for a deep kiss; their lips touched softly at first, but they soon parted so that Hermione could taste the whisky on Lucius's breath and feel it warm her from inside. Eventually, he pulled her close and Hermione sighed in contentment as he wrapped his arms around her. "I'm very glad that you're friends with the strangest people and that Aberforth is less discreet than he pretends to be."

"So am I," Hermione agreed as she pressed her head into his chest.


End file.
